She's gone

"I want you," he whispered.

He was a man used to getting what he wanted, she could tell. Who was she to deny him?

"And I want you," she heard herself say.

"Good. Two adults, mutual consent. There's nothing wrong with this."

"Nothing at all," Abbey agreed and lifted her mouth to meet his descending one.

The kiss was a scorcher. It burned her lips, seared her tongue, sent hot flames licking her body. At first it was urgent, brutal, as if he was satisfying a pent-up need, then it slowed but remained intense and hot. He kissed like an expert.

Without their mouths parting, Damien picked Abbey up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, his erection pressing into her. He carried her into the bedroom, placed her on the bed, and kissed her fiercely.

When his lips traveled downward, Abbey sucked in a breath in anticipation. When he reached her nipples, she bunched the sheets in her hand and held on. He took each one into his mouth and nibbled, licked, sucked until the little points were red and raw but wanting more.

He cupped one breast and squeezed, then did the same with the other. Abbey moaned as tiny tingles shot across her skin.

Then Damien's tongue moved down again. He licked her stomach, her bellybutton. Then moved down.

Down.

He caught her thong in his teeth and pulled the thin fabric over her legs as she arched herself off the mattress. He tossed them on the floor. Then he returned to his explorations between her thighs.

His tongue lunged, round, in, out, and Abbey heard a moan. Hers.

Finally he settled on licking up and down, setting her on a course to pure ecstasy. Her moans grew louder, and her body began to rock to the rhythm set by Damien's tongue.

The rush of tingles took her by surprise. Starting in her toes, it sped to where his tongue laved, up to her nipples, her throat, her face. She arched her back, and he cried out as her orgasm swamped her.

Panting, she lay on the bed, wanting more. She hauled him up toward her, kissed him roughly as he settled himself above her, and guided him into her wetness.

His smooth, thick tip dipped in, then suddenly withdrew.

"What's the matter?" she asked hoarsely.

"No condom. You?" He spoke in short, sharp bursts, as if too hurried to get any more words out.

"No. Maybe the hotel—"

He shook his head. "I can't wait." He looked down at her, his eyes glazed and shining. She read the message loud and clear.

She pushed him gently and he flipped over onto his back.

Abbey reached down to undo the buckles on the high heels she still wore, but he caught her arm and pulled her back up to him.

"Leave them on. If I'm going to do this, I'm going to do it right."

Abbey had no idea what he meant by that and she didn't care. She wanted to give this man the pleasure he'd just given her. The pleasure that came from having no strings attached, no cares other than what's happening right now.

She kissed him hard, then followed the path similar to the one he'd traveled on her. Down his throat, across each nipple, sucking and biting, then down through the sparse sprinkling of black chest hairs to his flat stomach.

He groaned when she reached her target, taking him into her mouth. Tasting him, rolling him around her tongue. Within moments his groans had intensified, and before long he was shuddering. Finally, his entire body convulsed as raw energy flowed out of him.

Abbey joined him, lying beside him on the bed. Mission accomplished. Well and truly accomplished.

Damien wrapped his arms around her and stifled a yawn as he settled against her breasts, kissing a nipple absently. She curled into his body, enjoying the heat of him and the sound of his steadily beating heart. She didn't want to move, not yet. This felt good. Too good.

First she'd have a rest on the large bed, then she'd go find Lucy, see if she got some good shots.

And she'd try her hardest to forget about Damien Vane and this night of steamy sex with a complete stranger.

  Nick Delaware rolled onto the other side of the bed. Empty.

His eyes flew open. Definitely empty. He thought about calling out — maybe she was in the bathroom — but he didn't want to appear desperate. He wasn't desperate. He just liked to know what was going on at all times. And right now, he didn't have a clue.

He got up, opened the bathroom door and peered in. Empty. Same with the lounge and the kitchenette. The woman had definitely left.

Nick sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

Who the hell was she? More importantly, what was she?

The masseur giving freebies courtesy of the hotel was almost certainly a line. But why lie?

And why was she so eager to sleep with him?

Eager she definitely was. No preliminaries, no small talk, nothing. She'd easily slipped into having sex with him as if she expected it to happen. Wanted it to happen. It didn't add up. In his experience, women didn't have sex with strange men within moments of meeting them.

But he hadn't exactly refused her offer either. In fact, he hadn't even put up a fight, or even asked any questions.

Now that was stupid.

Since when did Nick Delaware jump into something he wasn't absolutely certain about? He always made sure he knew exactly what was going on at all times, in all the deals he made.

Except he'd never been confronted with this sort of woman before. And certainly not in this type of situation.

Whatever that situation was.

All he knew was that he'd just had great oral sex with a woman he didn't know. But why?

The only reason he could come up with was one he didn't like.

She'd expected to have sex with him, she didn't bother with preliminaries, she didn't want to get to know him first—she just dove right in, so to speak.

Which meant she could only be one thing.

A hooker.

Nick shook his head, angry at himself for succumbing to that sort of woman. And so easily.

But she'd been good. Damn good. What man could resist in the face of that body, those intense blue eyes, mischievous mouth... He hadn't stood a chance against the—

Wait.

He frowned.

He hadn't paid her.

He strode to the small table beside the bed and opened the top drawer. His leather wallet was exactly where he'd left it and still contained the same amount of money. Even his credit cards were still there.

So she wasn't a thief.

But why had she—Abbey—left without being paid?

It didn't make sense. In fact, none of this made sense, including his own behavior. He was not the sort of man who had sex with strange women. Especially ones he had to pay.

Not that she'd taken any money.

Why hadn't she?

Maybe she was prepaid.

Perhaps someone had sent her to him and already given her money in advance.

But who?

He didn't know anyone in Melbourne, and none of his Sydney friends would get a kick out of that kind of joke.

None of them would dare.

Nick drew in a deep breath and lay on the bed again. He could still smell her on the sheets. The sweet, floral scent of expensive perfume and woman. All woman, as he recalled.

Damn, she'd felt good. Soft, succulent, sexy. The sort of woman he used to go for in his wilder days—gorgeous, great breasts, long legs, hair a man could get lost in.

That was over ten years ago. His tastes had mellowed since then. In recent times he preferred the elegant, the sophisticated. A woman who'd gone to the right school and spent her days lunching with friends and looked good on his arm at corporate functions.

Lately, however, work had taken over completely, and even that sort of woman had failed to entice him away from the office for a night out.

But that was how he wanted it.

Work was far more satisfying and rewarding than taking some well-bred bimbo out to an expensive restaurant that served a few pieces of lettuce elegantly arranged on a plate and called it dinner, then charged him a fortune for it. Work didn't complain and the conversation was better.

No, there hadn't been a woman he'd wanted to take out for a very long time.